


What I’m trying to say is: I think I love you again

by opheliahyde



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Sibling Incest, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5377226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliahyde/pseuds/opheliahyde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their lives were a series of firsts and not a single last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I’m trying to say is: I think I love you again

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt _first kiss_.

Seth argues that it was that first time, back before puberty, back when Ray was still alive, when Seth pressed his lips on Richie’s, with a closed mouth and all of a six-year-old’s innocence, pulling back with an _I love you_ spilling out, _that’s what you do when you love someone._

( _you don’t remember that_ , he tells him, tries to smile, but it pinches in his cheeks, _you didn’t know what it meant_ ; Seth rolls him over and pins him to the bed, hovering on top of him with his hands clamped around his wrists, dark eyes gleaming, yellow streetlights seeping through the window and setting them off, _of course I fucking knew what it meant_ )

 

 

 

The first time Seth kisses him after that first job, the first real one, too big suits and not enough finesse, Richie with his head spinning and blood hot, hand still gripping around his gun when Seth shoves him against a brick wall in a dank alleyway, rotting garbage at their feet, and Seth’s mouth tasting sharp when it smothers his breath; how Seth grounds him with their lips crushed together, Seth’s heart beating hard against his own when he comes down and realizes they’re still alive, still free, cash in hand.

 

 

 

The first time Richie kisses Seth when he no longer belongs to him, cheap silver band squeezing his ring finger, leaving an impression on Richie’s cheek where he grabs his face too tight, holding on when Richie collides into him, bending his spine along the door jam when Seth walks through—two weeks later, chasing him back to Kansas City, back to their shithole apartment that’s no longer theirs anymore; a last ditch attempt that didn’t stop him from being married more than a year, didn’t stop him from calling Vanessa his wife long after the ink was dry.

 

 

 

The first time Seth kisses him goodbye, when neither of them knew what it was (but Richie knew, deep in the pit of his gut, where his insides got all knotted and queasy, breathing _don’t go_ into his mouth, but Seth turned his back and went), short and sweet, a press of Seth’s mouth over his, like the first time that wasn’t a first time, his hand mussing up his hair, running through the strands, the pads of his fingers sending shivers down through his scalp— _I’ll be back_ , he says, leaving to run down to Houston, the job he’ll do, with or without Richie.

 _I’ll be back_ , Richie remembers when he hears it on the news, his phone ringing, Eddie on the other line.

He doesn’t see Seth for another six years.

 

 

 

The first time after Richie gets Seth back, the way Seth’s lip split and he bled into his mouth, the way Richie’s head went silent for the first time in months when they kissed, no voices whispering in his ear, no dark-haired woman calling out to him, just the copper taste of their shared blood and Seth’s tongue winding around his own— _it couldn’t last, could it?_

 

 

 

The first time after he was made new, died and reborn, covered in skin Seth hadn’t touched yet, his fingers curling and digging into his jugular, kissing him hard against the counter in Jacob Fuller’s old RV, or a replica, a mirage; the kiss a hello and another goodbye, though Richie hadn’t meant it to be at the time, hadn’t known if it was real or not, felt real, the way Seth’s lips burned his for the last time.

 

 

 

Richie kisses Seth for the first time three months later, battered and bruised, his own skin scorched and smelling of smoke, Seth’s hands in his hair, Richie’s clinging to the front of his torn, singed jacket and Seth’s mouth turning soft, supple under his, bending when he shoves him against the desk that’s now his, _theirs._

 

 

 

Richie counts the time when they were fooling around in Eddie’s back bedroom, teenagers and still figuring out how their dicks worked— _kid’s stuff_ , edging towards something more dangerous and unnamable ( _inevitable_ , he thinks, looking back now); Seth the first to jump the gun, rolling towards Richie with his mouth open, pressing against him, ankles to lips, planting sloppy, wet kisses on his mouth—crossing another line, just like that, whimpering until Richie followed him over and kissed him back, teeth clacking when he pushes too hard, uncoordinated and neither knowing what to do.

(they figured it out, in long lazy afternoons that summer, pressed together with sticky skin until their lips were sore and chapped; figured it out like they did everything—together)

 

 

 

If Richie plucked them out, one by one, going backward through the years, made a list, he knows their lives would be nothing but series of firsts, each given to the other, handed over, taken without remorse or forgiveness.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://richiesseth.tumblr.com)!


End file.
